Old Cold

For a second it stopped raining. Four of them showed up. I wish the remaining two join me. They talk. Probably they’re old friends. Through my shades they just turned 20. If they get closer they may be old. The dark haired one smokes and checks me out, according to my shades. The blond one rolls a cigarette. It’s fucking cold and I don’t plan to go to them, it won’t get any warmer. It’s June, 12 degrees outside. According to reality.